


Passing Stars

by NHMoonshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13.13 Devil’s Bargain Spoilers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, Gadreel Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Saving eachother, and makes better life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-19 02:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHMoonshadow/pseuds/NHMoonshadow
Summary: Before his death at Lucifer’s hands, there were two beings in the world that Gabriel tried to save, but as far as he was concerned, it was always too little too late. But the sparks that he left behind were enough to be recognized, and perhaps to save each other as a result.





	1. Keeping the Fires Burning

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me after watching s13.13 "Devil's Bargain", which gave me Sabriel feels. Plus I've been working on the gift so I've also been having Gadreel/Gabriel (Gadriel?) feels, and I do love myself some Sadreel. This little thing is gonna be three chapters, and will end in the current season, just so you guys know. Hope you enjoy, and as always, happy reading!- Shadow

  
_"If you're watching this, I'm dead."_

Sam couldn't say for sure why his heart plummeted at those words.

His history with Gabriel was complicated, but there had never been anything between them. At least, nothing beyond the awkward flirting way back when he thought he was a simple janitor. And sure, Gabriel had tried to prepare Sam for what was coming, and thought he was helping in his own way. But his methods had been brutal and traumatizing, and Sam didn't know if he could ever forgive him.

But what was forgiveness to a dead archangel?

He was numb as he and Dean watched the rest of the video, not really processing anything as Gabriel gave them a plan to officially grind the apocalypse to a halt. It was a long shot, and flimsy at best, but it was far more than they had.

He remained numb until Dean finally stopped at a run down motel in the middle of nowhere. While Dean caught a couple hours of sleep, Sam plugged a set of headphones into his laptop to watch the DVD again. He needed to hear the words again. Examine it, and pick it apart and . . .

And he didn't know why it mattered so much to him, he only knew that it did.

It was Gabriel's _suicide note._

_Oh God._

But the video was different this time.

Gabriel was still in that ridiculous getup, sans mustache, but he was sitting on the bed alone, looking at Sam through the screen. His expression was complex, and Sam couldn't begin to read it.

_"If you're watching this, it means that big bro left you alone for more than five minutes."_ The Gabriel on the screen huffed a laugh and turned away. _"I kinda hope you never see this. But if I'm right, then I'll never get another chance to . . ._ " Golden eyes lifted and for a moment Sam thought he was truly speaking to him. _"I'm sorry. I know what I did to you. I'm not gonna make excuses, or rehash anything. I knew what was coming and I should have done more. I could have done more. But I'm a liar and a coward, and everything I did do was too little too late. That's apparently my thing. Always too late to help anyone worth a damn. I just wish . . . It could have been different. We could have-"_ There was another laugh, this one a little less bitter. _"Just keep being your stubborn self and keep pushing on. If you do that then my brothers don't stand a chance."_

Sam didn't realize he was crying until his eyes blurred to the point he couldn't see.

There were so many _almosts_ and _what ifs_ that had been laid out between them. All laid out in Sam's peripheral and willfully ignored by both parties out of anger and fear. All those missed chances now lay in ashes along with the remnants of Gabriel's wings.

And Sam cried for what could have been.

 

 

This boy had been marked by an angel, etched right into his very being.

Dean Winchester had stepped out to deal with the other angels who had answered his call, while he remained to see what he could do for the younger brother.

The lingering scent of sulfur still clung to the boy, but it's source had been purged by whatever ritual he had tried to accomplish. He was very weak, and he had told Dean as much, and there was a moment he was unsure that Sam could be saved at all.

But the internal damage was not what made Gadreel's breath catch and his vessel's heart clench beneath his ribs. There, no more than a thread wrapped around his soul, was the mark of the Archangel Gabriel. It was horribly scratched and cracked, like another had gone through great pains to try to tear it out, only to be unsuccessful.

Gadreel still bore his, and sometimes it had been the only thing keeping him from finding a way to end it all during his imprisonment. Like Sam's, it was brittle with age and a millennia's worth of damage, but still it remained. That tiny shred of grace was a reminder that someone, at some point, had cared for him, and had believed in him. Maybe, in the right circumstances, that could have grown into love.

But he had been locked away, and Gabriel had been slain at the height of the apocalypse, or so he had been told. All that remained was the memories of laughter and moments that had held such potential . . . The things he kept close, like treasures to be guarded.

And here was another being who, at some point, had caught Gabriel's eye.

Everyone in heaven knew who the Winchesters were. Even in the darkest cells in Heaven's dungeons, there was no escaping the stories of the Righteous Man, the cursed boy destined to be Lucifer's vessel, and the young angel Castiel, who had sided with them over their siblings. Most stories were biased, spoken from those who would have seen the world destroyed in the wake of Michael striking down Lucifer for good.

Heaven and Hell were thwarted by a pair of humans and an angel who learned how to disobey orders.

The stories had given him hope.

At some point Sam Winchester had crossed paths with Gabriel and the Archangel had deemed his soul worthy of a mark of protection.

As Gadreel sat beside him and held his hand, he let a tendril of his grace explore the full extent of the damage. Because of this, he felt it the moment Death came to speak with the boy. The machines he was hooked up to began to screech.

Dean burst back into the room, looking battered, but clearly ignoring if for worry for his brother. "What the hell's happening?"

Gadreel's initial plan to heal the boy was immediately thrown out. As scared as he was, he could not bring himself to lie, not to Sam, and not to his brother. "Death has come to speak with Sam."

Dean grew pale. "Like the horseman? Dammit, Ezekiel, I thought you said you could heal him!"

"I can, but not like this." Gadreel placed a palm on Sam's head. "I must first need to convince him to _live_."

And he would. Gabriel saw something worthy in this boy, just as Gabriel saw something worthy in him, and he did not spend all that time wishing for redemption to fail in his very first task. Sam did not know him yet, but he would, Gadreel would ensure it. Gadreel would show him that there were still things left for him here, and that his life still meant something to those still living.

He used their matching marks gifted to them from Gabriel to strengthen their connection and pulled himself into Sam's subconscious. He kept the form of his current vessel, appearing beside two men sitting next to a fireplace.

Sam looked startled, but the wizened old form of Death looked mildly curious.

Death's head tilted to the side. "I'll be honest. You're not who I was expecting to see."

"I cannot let you take Sam Winchester. Not yet. Please, let me speak with him."

Death gestured with an open hand. "By all means."

Sam rose from his chair, looking uncertain, and confused. "Did Dean send you?" He asked cautiously.

"Your brother may have asked for my help, but I am hear to plead my own case for you to live. We have much to discuss, you and I, and much in common. I cannot let you go, not yet."

"I don't even _know_ you," Sam bit out. "I'm done, okay? I'm tired of fighting this! Heaven, Hell, I'm done with all of it. Someone else can step up, because I've got nothing left to give."

The words made Gadreel's heart ache, and bolstered his resolve. "And I am here to tell you, that you will not be fighting alone."

Sam's expression became unreadable. "Why should I trust you?"

"I am no stranger to pain or failure. All of Heaven could argue that every evil that has ever befallen mankind was my doing. It was my failure that allowed the serpent to enter the Garden of Eden. A misplaced moment of trust cost me my family, and my freedom."

"It was also supposed to cost you your life."

Gadreel and Sam turned back to Death.

Death was staring into the fire, looking vaguely bored. He lifted his gaze to Gadreel, with a lifted brow. "You didn't know? Not surprising, I suppose. Raphael had been pushing Michael for your execution. Gabriel managed to convince him otherwise. Not that prison was much better, I'd imagine, but it did save your life. I do believe he left Heaven not long after."

Gadreel's grace clutched at Gabriel's mark buried within him, looking for comfort it couldn't give. Now was not the time to drown in grief, so he pushed it down the best he could.

"Always too late to help anyone worth a damn," Sam said quietly, startling Gadreel from his thoughts. Then he asked, "Who _are_ you?"

"My name is Gadreel," he answered, voice low. "Your brother might be upset with me later. I gave him an alias."

"Of course you did." Sam gave a huffed, broken laugh. "So did Dean actually have a plan? Because, apparently I'm dying and it's bad enough for Dean ask random angels for help."

"There was no time. The damage done to you cannot currently be healed from an outside source, and you were ready to willingly give yourself over to Death. I can heal you, but I need explicit consent."

Sam's face hardened. "You mean possession."

"You know my true name, and I was greatly injured even before the fall. I am weak. You have the power to eject me at any time. I only ask to stay long enough to ensure your survival, then I shall return to my current vessel."

"May I add my own conditions?"

Gadreel felt a glimmer of hope. "Of course."

"I remain in control. I've had enough of creatures taking my body for a joy ride. And I want your full story, and your promise that you'll answer my questions."

"Agreed, and any information that I have is yours. You need only ask."

"Then yes."

 

**TBC**

 


	2. Rage Against the Night

  
Sam had been possessed before, by angels and demons alike, but this was so very different. Those instances had been perverse violations. Lucifer's time within Sam's skin had been made all the worse _because_ he was there on Sam's invitation, and the archangel took great joy in reminding him of that fact. There had been coldness and cruelty and all manner of horrible things, and there were days, even now, where he swore he could still feel the chill of Lucifer's grace tearing into him.

But being Gadreel's vessel was nothing like that at all.

Willingly, Gadreel became an open book to Sam, which was terrifying in a different way.

Because Sam had requested it, he told his tale and held nothing back, and Sam felt he could drown in the ocean of regret that the angel harbored within him. His history, his hopes, his crimes, the torture he had endured, all of it was laid bare and presented to Sam. Gadreel gave it all, to the point that the angel gave Sam the impression that if he demanded Gadreel's life as retribution for his past, then there was a very real chance that Gadreel would have gladly handed over his own blade and submit himself to Sam's judgment.

All because Gabriel had once taken a shine to Sam.

And whatever the Archangel had left behind was worth _everything_ in Gadreel's eyes. It meant so much to him that he felt inclined to ally himself with Sam, even knowing that his exposure to other angels was inevitable.

Gadreel tried explaining it. Tried to explain the thread around his soul that apparently marked him as protected, as trusted. He had tried to explain that he had one as well, a gift given to him eons ago and how it helped to save him from himself.

But most days Sam had a hard time seeing how he was worth all that.

When Sam was less than generous, he wondered if to be favored by Gabriel was to suffer. Because sometimes that is all Sam believed he and Gadreel got from it. Pain and torture at the hands of others, punished for doing what they believed to be the right thing.

And completely unable to see the value within themselves.

But Sam knew that wasn't fair, and he would immediately feel guilty for entertaining the thought.

Because even after all this time, Sam never forgot Gabriel's last message to the world. To Sam himself, and by extension, to Gadreel. For all his character flaws, Sam truly believed that Gabriel felt regret for not doing more.

_Always too late to help anyone worth a damn._

Sam knew how the host viewed Gadreel. Sam also knew firsthand how cruel Angels could be to those they think wronged them, and right now they were already furious with one angel allied with the Winchesters. A second one would only be a convenient target to vent their anger.

Gabriel was gone.

But Sam was still here.

 _They_ were still here. They were still alive, and if Gadreel made it his mission to be Sam's personal guardian, then it was only fair that Sam did the same.

It took some doing, but Sam convinced Dean to keep quiet about Gadreel. About his name and about how exactly he was helping Sam.

Dean didn't like it, and he liked it even less when he learned that the angel now residing in his brother had already lied to him. But Sam was able to make him bend, at least for now, and it had to be enough.

When they went to retrieve Cas, they fed him the story that Ezekiel somehow got Sam up and running before pulling a runner himself. It was flimsy at best, but given that Cas was currently human, he wasn't able to spot the lie at a glance.

It would at least buy Gadreel time to heal them both.

He hoped it was enough.

It _had_ to be enough.

 

Weeks passed. Then months.

Sam had come to rely on the steady presence of Gadreel. Though dormant most of the time, Gadreel would often make appearances during moments of high stress. Threats to Sam were often neutralized with a deadly efficiency, and if Sam didn't have a direct line into the angel's head, it would have been more than a little terrifying. He had come to rely on him, and the reassurance that there was another hunting partner watching his back.

If he was suddenly injured, or rendered unconscious, he knew Gadreel would be there, ready to step in as needed. Gadreel was always ready to help.

But not now.

Right now, Sam was alone.

Cas was off chasing down Dean.

Dean, who apparently did something monumentally stupid for a shot at Abbadon. But not before his suspicion and mistrust drove Gadreel from Sam. Before either of them were willing or ready, Dean had ripped them away from each other.

So when Metatron's lackeys came for Kevin, Sam had been alone.

And he had been outnumbered when the angels came.

Sam was alone, and he was bleeding, and holding Kevin's body, and he knew it was _bad_ , and that there was nothing he could do.

So he prayed.

He was bleeding onto the floor of the bunker and he _prayed_. Prayed for Dean, and Cas. For _Gadreel_. For someone to help, although it was far too late for Kevin. Kevin's eyes were gone and his body had cooled against Sam's and-

And Sam was _alone_.

Until he _wasn't_.

Gentle hands touched him, and a soft voice murmured in his ear, all sorrow and remorse. The warm spread of familiar grace healed his wounds even as arms moved in to share the burden of Kevin's body.

Gadreel was here, and together they built a pyre to give Kevin a hunter's funeral.

They stood there, shoulder to shoulder as the smoke drifted into the sky. Together they watched the flames, and all Sam could think of was how sick and tired he was of losing family.

"I am so sorry, Sam," Gadreel breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I did not return fast enough. I failed you."

"No." Sam's voice came out sharper than he intended, startling them both. He sniffed and shook his head, and tried again, softer this time. "No. This isn't on you. This isn't on either of us. And besides, you . . . you made it back."

 _I'm glad you're home_ , he wanted to say. _I'm glad you're still alive_.

But he was still too raw from everything, and the words refused to come.

When Gadreel's fingers twined with his and refused to let go, Sam thought he might have heard it anyway.

Days later an angry Castiel and a disgruntled Dean eventually returned to the bunker, only to stare in shocked silence at what greeted them. Kevin's pyre had long since burnt out and Sam and Gadreel had put the bunker back to rights, but evidence still remained. Sam had managed to take out two of the angels before banishing those that remained. Sam hadn't gotten around to removing the imprints of wings spread across the table of the war room, so that was the first thing that greeted them when they walked through the door.

Neither of them expected to see Gadreel standing beside Sam.

But after Sam was done saying his piece, neither of them thought of separating the two again.

 

So much more happened during that time, but really, it broke down to four major events.

Dean took the Mark of Cain.

Abaddon fell under Dean and the First Blade.

Cas raised an army, which in turn led to Metatron's imprisonment.

Then Dean died, and woke up as the newest Knight of Hell.

 

Gadreel was certain that he was the primary thing keeping Sam from flying off into the abyss. Castiel too, for that matter, but the other angel was still holding Gadreel at a distance and therefore leaned on him far less. Both of them had become so driven to find Dean that they lost track of most other things. Gadreel helped, how and when he could, but he knew neither of them would truly rest until Dean was found.

There were endless nights of research and chasing leads and it seemed that with every dead end they came to, they became a little more desperate.

Sam began to drink more, seemingly unable to sleep without it some nights. Gadreel worried, even after Castiel's assurance that this was a normal coping mechanism for the Winchesters. But just because it was normal, did not mean that it was healthy.

Then there came a night where Sam got so drunk that Gadreel had to help him back to his room. Sam kept insisting that he was fine all the way back to his quarters, even as he stumbled over his own feet. Gadreel remained close, keeping Sam steady and vertical as he all but carried him down the hall. After depositing him gently onto the bed and removing his boots, Gadreel had bid Sam a good night and turned to leave.

He was halted by a hand on his wrist.

Gadreel may have only been invited into Sam's life by necessity, and the mutual memory of Gabriel, but Gadreel remained for his own reasons. After becoming a part of Sam's life, Gadreel believed he knew what had drawn Gabriel to the boy in the first place.

Sam was strong, of that there was no question. He was also intelligent and compassionate, and so very stubborn. But all of those things were nothing compared to his loyalty. In defense of his loved ones Sam could be vicious and tenacious, and Father help anyone who wronged those he cared for. But there were so very few people that Sam gave his loyalty to.

To his brother, of course, and to Castiel. And now to Gadreel himself.

But this was new.

Sam lay on his side, expression open and vulnerable, and his eyes pleading up at Gadreel through tousled hair. He tugged gently, coaxing Gadreel back towards the bed.

"Stay?" He pleaded, alcohol still affecting his speech, but not his awareness. "Don't leave yet. Just stay. Please."

He had seen Sam's loyalty, but this, _this_ was Sam's trust.

Accepting it for the gift it was, Gadreel allowed himself to be tugged closer to the bed. He paused long enough to remove his shoes before settling himself beside Sam. He made himself comfortable against the headboard as Sam threw an arm over Gadreel's thighs, fingers digging into denim, and his face burying against his hip.

"Rest, Sam," Gadreel told him softly as he ran a hand through his hair. He was rewarded with a low sigh, and so he repeated the motion until Sam sank against him completely. "Rest," he repeated. "I'll keep watch."

That night was the first time Gadreel spent the night in Sam's bed.

But it would not be the last.

Some night's would be just like the first, no more than an innocent exchange of comfort and companionship. Over time Sam grew more bold, and the encounters became more intimate.

Gadreel knew it was unintentional at first. Sam was a restless sleeper and sometimes his hands would wander. Long finger would search out skin, skimming under clothes and pulling their bodies closer together, seeking out warmth and comfort as he dreamed.

Then Sam woke one morning, hands wrapped around and under Gadreel's back. Sam's face had been nuzzled against the hollow of his throat and their legs had become hopelessly tangled together. Sam had mumbled an apology, embarrassed, and made to pull away.

Gadreel stopped him, stilling him with a hand on his jaw, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.

"I will leave if you would like me to. I will not be upset," Gadreel told him. Because it was true and needed to be said. "But I am right where I want to be. I never want you to doubt that."

This was the first selfish Gadreel had ever wanted for himself. He wanted to remain by Sam's side. As a companion, as a lover, if Sam would let him. But only if Sam wanted the same.

"Everyone leaves," was Sam's hoarse reply, and if Sam hadn't once been his vessel, Gadreel might have missed the true meaning hidden there.

"Never by choice," Gadreel vowed, sealing the words with a slow kiss.

Because this is where he belonged.

All his mistakes, all his crimes, he would do them all again if the alternative meant never knowing Sam Winchester.

 

They found Dean, and restored his humanity, But the Mark remained.

Gadreel was not as old as some angels, but he was older than most. He was old enough to remember that the Mark originally belonged to Lucifer. He knew it held some sort of importance, but whatever it was, it had remained a closely guarded secret between the archangels. But even then, it was obvious that it was powerful and dangerous.

Nothing good could come from the Mark's removal.

He knew this, but still he researched right along with Sam and Castiel behind Dean's back. He knew that they would stop at nothing to save Dean from himself, and so he did his part to assist them. He offered his knowledge, as little as it was, and prepared for the worst, should it come to pass.

After all, they were all in this together.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel, they were his family now.

And he would do everything within his power to keep them together for as long as possible.

They found a way to remove the Mark. Of course they did.

But it came at a cost.

Gadreel almost lost Sam for good at the hands of Dean and Death. The witch Rowena had escaped with the Book of the Damned, but not before she had crippled Gadreel and cursed Castiel with dark magic, leaving him weak and powerfully violent in turns.

Yes, they found a way to free Dean Winchester from the Mark of Cain.

But because of them the Darkness was unleashed upon the world.

**TBC**


	3. Catching Fading Embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your interest in this story. I write because it makes me happy, but it’s always a good feeling to know others enjoy it as well!

  
Their first true point of disagreement came when Sam began having new visions of the Cage and Lucifer.

It did not matter that Sam knew very well what Lucifer was like, even more intimately that Gadreel did. Sam was so _sure_ that those visions were showing him the solution to bringing down the Darkness, and Gadreel could not persuade him otherwise.

"You said it yourself, Lucifer used to have the Mark before he gave it to Cain. He should know a way to help!"

"That does not mean that he will! And if he does, we both know that his assistance will come at a cost. What is it you think he will ask for? This reeks of deception, Sam! How can you not see it?"

"It feels different! I can't explain it, but I just know it is."

"I told you once that I would never leave you by choice. I meant that. I still do. I will never ask you the same in return, but are you so eager to throw your life away?"

"That's not going to happen."

"Sam."

"I won't let it happen!"

Around and around their argument went, with neither of them bending.

Gadreel knew that Sam was scared, and with good reason. But Gadreel also knew that he had chosen his path and was determined to follow it through until he completely exhausted the possibility.

Until then, all Gadreel could do was make his stance clear and stay close.

But that means nothing when Sam runs off without waiting for him.

 

Gadreel had warned him.

Gadreel had warned him, but he hadn't listened, and now Sam only had himself to blame.

He was in Hell, trapped in close quarters with Lucifer, and backup wasn't coming. The Archangel was trying to get his consent, and when the mind tricks down memory lane did nothing to sway him, Lucifer had moved on to more physical persuasion.

Sam had the wind knocked out of him as his back slammed against the sharp edges of the bars. He dropped to the floor, gasping.

"C'mon Sam! It's just one little word," Lucifer needled, pacing in front of him as Sam tried desperately to find his feet. "It's not like you've been angel-free all this time! What's the big deal?"

The terror running through his veins ratchet up another notch. "I don't know what you're talking about," he rasped.

The steel grip of Lucifer's hand was around his throat and with a yank he was hauled upright. Once more his back was pinned to the bars. Metal scraped against his shoulders and spine as Lucifer lifted until Sam's feet barely touched the floor.

"Don't _lie_ to me," Lucifer hissed. He brushed his nose along Sam's neckline, a mockery of intimacy that made his skin crawl. "The scent is all over your skin Sammy. Really went for broke for this one, didn't you? You _reek_ of angel, inside and out. I thought we had something special, and here you are whoring yourself out to my family. Who was it?"

His thoughts churned within his head, sharp memories of torture colliding with the softer ones of his lover. Sweet, steadfast Gadreel, who had already suffered so much because of Lucifer in the wake of his original rebellion.

Sam bared his teeth in a snarl. "Screw you."

Lucifer was displeased with his defiance and did not hesitate to let it be known.

Then the cavalry came.

"Let go of my brother, asshat!"

Lucifer paused his assault at the interruption. Off to the side, Sam could see the small group gathered beyond the bars.

"Hey Dean, brought some friends I see. Castiel, you're looking remarkably intact for someone I distinctly remember exploding." There was a small pause as a smirk grew on Lucifer's face. "And as I live and breathe! Is that Gadreel?"

Sam's heart stopped.

 _No_.

Lucifer grinned wide and leaned back as if to get a better look. "My old pal, come to visit me after all this time? I'm touched, really, I am."

_No, don't say it Gadreel, don't -_

"Do not flatter yourself. I am not here for you."

Sam closed his eyes against the tears, and Lucifer chuckled over him. His fingers flexed around Sam's throat, and his other hand pressed sharply into an open wound, forcing him to pay attention. "So _you're_ the one sticking his fingers in my cookie jar. Aw, look Sam! Another angel willing to throw their life away for you. Or did you forget all about poor Gabriel?"

Eyes stinging, Sam spared a glance at Gadreel, watched his lover's expression harden as he summoned his blade to his hand.

Lucifer laughed hysterically. "That's right! Gabriel was sweet on you too, wasn't he? Never saw the appeal myself, to be honest. I always thought you were a bit uptight. It really did make you the perfect scapegoat though, I got so many perks out of it."

Dean, done with the baiting, barked out, "We gonna dance, or you gonna monologue some more?"

Lucifer answered him with a snap of his fingers, summoning them all into the cramped space.

They all got out by the skin of their teeth.

However, Lucifer had made Gadreel his primary target, and when it was all said and done Sam and Dean had to carry him out. All of them were beaten and bleeding, but Gadreel was the only one who kept slipping in and out of consciousness.

And matters only got worse when healed Sam in the backseat of the impala, and weakened himself further. By the time Sam realized what was happening, Gadreel had already slipped back under.

Dean checked them into the nearest motel, and for once rented separate rooms. Grateful to his brother, Sam took Gadreel to their own room to patch him up. Gadreel was finally staying awake and kept insisting that his grace had already begun to heal the damage, but he relented to Sam's request to at least let him clean the wounds.

Gadreel was sitting on the bed with his back to Sam, as he silently let the hunter run a damp cloth and disinfectant over the open skin along his back and sides. He had already cleaned the deeper wounds on his chest and stomach.

Sam's emotions were raw and brewing inside him like a storm, so heavy and oppressive he was strangled with it. There was fury, aimed at Lucifer as well as himself. There was also lingering fear, and a whole mountain of regret, and he was having a hard time processing it all in the wake of the day.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. It took him forever to find his voice and it was all I could do to keep it from breaking.

"It is fine, Sam," Gadreel whispered back, but he sounded so distant and that scared Sam too.

"No it's not," Sam refuted. "I nearly got you killed and I can't, I can't-" Sam's voice cracked and broke and he shook his head against all the almosts that nearly happened today.

He bent forward until his forehead came to rest on the back of Gadreel's neck, allowing his hair to fall forward until it hid his face.

In the Cage, Lucifer had shown him, in brutal detail, what he had done to Gabriel, and had made sure Sam knew that he was dead because of him. Right now all he could see was the limp form of Gabriel, sprawled over the ashen remains of his wings.

That could have been Gadreel today.

That could have been Gadreel, and it would have been Sam's fault for not listening to him. If that had happened, Sam would have never forgiven himself. He couldn't lose any more family, he couldn't lose any more people he loved.

He couldn't lose any more people he _loved_.

Hands trembling, he slid his arms around Gadreel's bare chest and pulled the angel back against him. Sam bracketed him with his knees and used long limbs to wrap himself around him as he shook through his realization.

He loved Gadreel.

He loved him, and he nearly lost him today.

He nearly lost him like he lost Jess, and that would have broken him, and this time he wasn't sure if he would be able to find all the pieces.

 _Everyone leaves_ , he once told Gadreel.

"Sam?" Gadreel ran his hands along his arms and his thigh, grounding Sam with touch. "Sam, I will mend. I promise you. I am still here."

 _Never by choice_ , Gadreel had promised once. _I am not leavin_ g, he heard now.

Sometimes he wished that he was still Gadreel's vessel, that way Gadreel could know his mind, and Sam wouldn't have to find the words that were in his heart just so he could say them out loud. But he wasn't, and Gadreel deserved to know.

Sam lifted his head to hook his chin over Gadreel's shoulder, and turned to press his lips against his neck and jaw. "I love you," he said, breathing the words directly into Gadreel's ear. "I'm so sorry. We're in this together, and I should have listened to you."

Now that the words were out, he couldn't stop them from pouring out of him, like a mantra. A prayer.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

Gadreel twisted within the circle of Sam's arms, one hand still braced against Sam's knee while the other anchored itself in Sam's hair and hauled him. Gadreel's lips were warm and soft and when there was a gentle swipe against his own he didn't hesitate to let him in. When they parted, Gadreel tipped their heads together, just resting against one another and sharing the same air.

"And I love you," Gadreel said in return, so close that their lips brushed as he spoke. "And I forgive you. I know you and your brother are men of action, but I beg of you, never go where I cannot follow. Please."

"I promise."

Sam knew he had a lot to make up for, and there were still so many conversations that needed to happen before this was actually fixed. But Sam was more than willing to put in the effort to prevent another day like today.

That whole evening they were so caught up in each other that they wouldn't realize Cas had dropped off the grid until the next day.

 

Gadreel understood _desperate times call for desperate measures_ , but it did not mean that he had to like it.

Their home was currently filled with those they had previously been in conflict with, and all of them were assembled here for the sole purpose of stopping Amara.

Lucifer, Crowley, Rowena, they were all assembled here and he trusted none of them. Each of them were responsible for multiple points of grief in his life. There were crimes against him, just as there were crimes against Sam, and Dean. Gabriel's murderer was occupying a room just down the hall, free to come and go as he pleased. And just to add insult to injury, he was wearing a key member of their small group as his vessel.

No one in the bunker had taken that news well.

Dean was the most emotional about it, due to personal reasons Gadreel was sure, but both Gadreel and Sam somehow managed to keep their composure for the sake of cooperation. But it was clear that both of them were stressed by Lucifer's proximity. As a result, they kept in each other's line of sight when at all possible, and they painted additional warding on the walls of their room, just so Sam could feel safe enough to go to sleep.

Last night had been particularly difficult for Sam. He couldn't settle enough to rest, and when he finally succumbed to sleep he became plagued with nightmares. In general, Sam didn't like Gadreel using his grace to allow him to fall asleep, but after multiple discussions, he did allow Gadreel to ease the the nightmares if they became particularly insistent.

And tonight they had certainly been insistent. By the time Sam began to perspire and his heartbeat was racing Gadreel had had enough. Stretched out beside him, Gadreel rested a palm on Sam's brow and channeled just enough grace to ensure a calm and undisturbed sleep. He would likely wake after only a few more hours, but it would be the best sleep he's had all week.

Gadreel sighed down at Sam as all the tension fled from his body. He slid his hand further back, to run his fingers through Sam's hair. He smiled a bit to himself as his lover leaned into the touch even in his sleep.

He left their room shortly before Sam woke, intending to have a simple breakfast waiting for him when he rose. It would be a good excuse to keep Sam in bed a bit longer.

He did not expect his Father to be sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of liquor in his hand and a whole bottle resting at his elbow.

Gadreel was struck by the realization that this was the first time in existence he had ever been alone with his Father.

His Father, still in the guise of the prophet named Chuck, barely spared him a glance at him standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Did you come to wrestle an apology outta me as well?"

Gadreel was taken aback.

"No, I did not," he said at length. But now he was curious, and so he had to ask. "Do you feel like I deserve one?"

He absently swirled his drink. "I didn't order your punishment."

Gadreel stared blankly at his Father, who had said the words to the glass his hands and not to Gadreel himself. In fact, he was looking everywhere but Gadreel, and his eyes had avoided meeting Gadreel's own since he first acknowledged his presence.

He supposed the words should have made him angry, but to be perfectly honest, Gadreel had no idea how he felt at the moment, especially in the wake of this non-apology. "Is that intended to make me feel better, that it was not on your order? It still happened."

"It did. Your siblings were supposed to sort it out, but it kinda got a little outta hand."

Now Gadreel was angry. That was such a horrible understatement of the whole situation. "Apparently, I was up for execution. You call that a little out of hand? I made a mistake, but no one would listen to me because it was Lucifer's word against my own. I am only alive due to Gabriel's interference on my behalf."

Gadreel reined himself in before he started to yell, because he didn't want to discuss that time in his life. He would much rather focus on the now, and the good he had found here.

So he turned away from his father and made his way across the kitchen. He had originally come here for some coffee and toast to bring back to Sam, so he started on that now, just to have something to do with his hands.

"Gabriel was always fond of you," his Father mused aloud. "He was the one who recommended you to stand watch over the Garden, you know. He thought you would enjoy watching over the souls of humanity as they grew."

Gadreel closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that brought to the surface. He had not known that, and for all the times Gabriel had visited him at his post he had never said anything. He took a steadying breath and started up the coffee machine. His thoughts were swirling with memories as he went through the motions of preparing toast and grabbing a plate and a mug.

"He was not wrong," Gadreel said at last. Love for humanity was something that the two of them had shared, after all. He remembered that first time, Gabriel's bright golden wings had flashed as he landed, and he had said something outlandish, and almost flirtatious and Gadreel remembered being caught somewhere between flustered and offended. He did not remember what he said, only that it had been short and biting, and it had sent the Gabriel into fits of laughter.

Apparently he was the first one outside of the other Archangels who refused to put up with his games.

Thinking of that day hurt.

Memories of Gabriel always hurt, but Gadreel never ran from them. He felt that doing so would have been a great disservice. Because even in death, the Archangel had helped Gadreel, unintentional though it was.

After all, Gabriel's actions led him to Sam.

And he could never regret that.

"You're really not gonna ask me for anything, are you?"

"No, I am not." Gadreel gathered up his plate and a fresh mug of coffee and turned towards his Father. "Given the circumstances, I consider myself lucky. I am free, and have people in my life who care about me. I have a man that I love. To ask any more would be greedy."

He was going to leave it at that, he was, but a thought struck him and a wild sort of courage possessed him to turn and speak his mind.

Too much time spent with the Winchesters, he supposed.

Dean would be especially proud.

He squared himself up, and did his best to keep his voice steady. "If you want your children to make better decisions, perhaps you should consider setting a better example. When death and imprisonment are the only things they know, how can you expect them to find better alternatives?"

Gadreel then turned on his heel and left his father sitting with a stunned expression on his face.

 

They had gathered a mini army of angels, demons, witches and hunters. All of them had agreed to a temporary truce to bring down Amara, and every single one of them were on standby. However, in a true Winchester twist, none of them were needed in the end.

Dean saved the day by playing therapist to God and his sister. How was this even their life?

**TBC**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter ran away with me, and I didn't mind it one damn bit! Sooo, I had only planned on writing 3 chapters but, obviously I can't end that here. So one more for you folks! Feel free to tell me what you think! Until next time, Happy reading!


	4. Rekindling and Reforging

His father and Amara were gone. The pair had vanished in a twisting pillar of black smoke and blinding light, and if they were to be believed, no one would ever see them again.

But before they left, they had restored the last member of their family.

Lucifer had tried to resist, claiming Castiel as his, and refusing to leave even after Father offered to give him another vessel. He became petulant and childish and when he refused to budge, their Father apologized before forcibly ejecting him from Castiel's body.

The four of them spent the next several months doing damage control on Lucifer's resulting temper tantrums.

In a true demonstration of Winchester Luck, things quickly spiraled from bad to worse. It was difficult enough when Lucifer took over the body of an aging music icon. But after that, he claimed the President of the United States as his vessel, which was dangerous in a multitude of ways.

But then . . . _then_ he indulged in some of the more carnal aspects of human nature, and the world shook when his nephilim came into being. The raw power of the conception created a physic disturbance that rippled all across the planet.

They dealt with Lucifer as quickly as they could, banishing him for what they believed to be the final time. All that was left was to track down the mother, Kelly Kline, who had run off to protect her unborn child.

Even knowing what she carried, and who fathered it, Kelly held such hope for her child's future. Perhaps it was foolish, but Gadreel thought the woman very brave in the face of such odds.

The four of them were divided on what should be done once they found her. Dean and Castiel were ready to take decisive and violent action, but Gadreel saw no reason for the child to be punished for the sins of its father. Sam was the only one who came close to a compromise, but even then Gadreel knew that he wasn't satisfied, as it still resulted in the death of both mother and child.

Regardless of their stance on the subject, they all pressed forward and prepared for the unexpected.

And the child imprinting on an adult angel while still in the womb was certainly unexpected.

 

 

_That was too close._

Sam stared blankly at the empty space where Lucifer had been mere moments before, vanishing right along with the dimensional rip. His heart was still hammering against his ribs. Instinctively, his hand grabbed at the arm next to him, searching out a hand and twining their fingers together.

Sam and Gadreel shared a look, both of them panting and filthy from the fight. Gadreel had a glowing cut from his neck to his collarbone, courtesy of Lucifer's blade, but thankfully it looked shallow.

"You okay?" Sam asked, voice hoarse, and a touch shaky.

"I'll manage," Gadreel replied, and squeezed his fingers lightly.

Sam's lips twitched into a half smile.

"Guys!" Dean barked, harsh and almost panicked. "A little help would be nice!"

They turned, and what they saw sent both of them running.

Dean was crouched over the crumpled form of Cas, hands pressed firmly against his chest. Blood and grace were seeping out from between Dean's fingers, despite the steady pressure, and Dean looked seconds away from cracking, like his sanity was only one moment, one missed breath, away from shattering into a million little pieces.

Cas was drawing in short ragged gasps, squirming and working his mouth like he was trying to speak, but was choking on the words.

Gadreel fell to his knees beside Dean, pressing one large palm besides Dean's hands and resting the other against Castiel's forehead. "Shh, brother, don't speak."

Grace light flared beneath both points of contact, and the grisly wound slowly sealed itself. Cas immediately began to breathe easier, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm as he went boneless and still against the dirt. No one said anything as Dean sat back and grabbed fistfuls of Castiel's coat and dragged him in close until his head was resting in his lap.

"Castiel will be fine," Gadreel assured Dean quietly. "He just needs to rest." He pulled back then, straightening up to sit on his heels, but he swayed to the side.

Sam steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. "I think that applies to you too."

Gadreel shook his head then stumbled clumsily to his feet. "No, no, I felt Kelly's soul depart. I need to check on Jack."

A sharp pang of - of _something_ zipped through Sam's chest. It wasn't jealousy, the lingering traces of that had faded the more Sam saw his angel interact with Kelly. It was more like apprehension and unease rolled into one.

But Gadreel had promised Kelly that they would look after her son when she was gone, and Sam had made his choice the day Jack had imprinted on Gadreel.

Channeling power from the unborn nephilim, Dagon had been reduced to a pile of ash and Gadreel had turned to Sam. His face was imploring, even as the gold slowly bled out of his irises.

" _Please, Sam,"_ Gadreel had begged, low enough that only the two of them could hear. " _He will need those who understand. To show him that being different does not equate being evil. And I . . . I can not do this without you."_

Considering his own history, what could Sam possibly say to that? And now it was time to honor his word.

As Gadreel pulled away from him, Sam turned back towards his brother. "Dean, we-"

Dean snorted, cutting him off. "We're not going anywhere. Go check on the spawn of Satan."

Sam shot him a disapproving glare before following Gadreel into the house.

It was eerily quiet inside, and coming on the heels of yet another fight with Lucifer, the silence set Sam's hunter instincts on edge. Gadreel had dismissed his blade, so it must have been safe enough, but it still took everything Sam had to keep himself from reaching for a weapon.

When they entered the room, there was Kelly, still and lifeless on the bed. Sam solemnly closed her eyes, noting that her face seemed peaceful. But there was no sign of an infant.

He turned towards Gadreel to comment on it, but froze.

There was a figure huddled alone in the far corner of the room, eyes flashing bright gold in the dark.

Gadreel was approaching the figure with slow and steady steps, then knelt down to eye level. Every motion was easy, and telegraphed, meant to calm, to soothe. "Hello Jack," Gadreel said.

"Father," Jack said in return.

Sam felt ice pool in his chest.

He knew Gadreel had more or less taken up that mantel, but to actually _hear_ it . . .

He thought he would have time to get used to the idea. He didn't know how he felt now. This hadn't been what he was expecting, and being presented with a talking teenager instead of a wailing infant left him completely wrong footed.

Those glowing eyes flickered to him, then back to Gadreel in uncertainty. "Is that . . . Sam?" Jack asked, quiet, almost timid.

Sam's breath punched out of his lungs.

Gadreel glanced back at him over his shoulder before answering Jack with a soft smile. "Yes, it is. As you see, there is no need to be afraid. No one here will hurt you."

And just like that, the gold faded away from Jack's eyes and the tension bled from the room. Gadreel moved to sit beside him, and immediately Jack fell against his shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

Realizing that, teenage body or no, Jack was not even twenty minutes old and was therefore was still very naked. So, Sam grabbed a throw blanket from a nearby rocking chair and draped it carefully around Jack's shoulders, and then sat down as well. His back against the next wall, leaving the kid wedged securely between the two adults in the room.

Gadreel smiled wanly at Sam before tucking the blanket more securely around Jack. He murmured into the boy's hair. "Jack. Why do you look like this, little one?"

Jack burrowed deeper into Gadreel's shoulder. "Mother said that the world was dangerous, that there would be people after me. She said I needed to grow up fast, even with you and Sam protecting me."

Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth, not knowing what to say to that heartbreaking truth.

And judging by the look that Gadreel gave him, he didn't know what to say either.

 

 

Kelly's words to Jack might as well have been a prophecy.

Angels found them right after they had sent Kelly's funeral pyre alight.

Dean had been inside the house, watching over Castiel while he rested, leaving the three of them to put Jack's mother to rest. Gadreel had been explaining the meaning and purpose behind the tradition of a hunter's funeral when he spotted three angels emerging from the tree line.

Mere hours after their last confrontation, Gadreel and Sam once more stood side by side, blades in hand. They pushed Jack behind them, making their position clear.

One of the angels demanded that Jack go with them, arguing that it was time to go home, to heaven.

Naturally, that did not go over well with anyone present.

Gadreel was still exhausted from his fight with Lucifer, and Sam was only marginally better. But even so, he and Sam always fought well together and were more than capable of holding their own.

When the angels realized that they would not win, one of them suddenly changed tactics, and both of them had been too far away to stop her.

Gadreel had watched in horror as one of his sisters ran Jack through with an angel blade.

Sam had been closer and had given her a blade to match before catching Jack in his arms. By the time Gadreel had taken care of the other two, Jack had taken out the blade himself and was staring at his own chest in confusion, even as Sam patted down the closing wounds.

That was how they learned that angel blades did not work on Jack.

Gadreel prayed that Kelly would forgive him that they found out at all.

Realizing that it was not safe to linger, they rounded up Dean and Castiel to begin the long drive home. They needed to get behind the security of the wards so they could recuperate and lick their wounds.

But time was never on their side, Gadreel was learning.

They didn't even make it halfway home before demons made their own play for Jack.

They had stopped for food. With the five of them all crammed into the impala it made for cramped quarters and they were all in desperate need to get out and stretch their legs.

Apparently, that was the opening that the demons had been waiting for and Jack went missing.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to track the boy down.

After all, there was no mistaking the beacon of raw and untrained power.

Gadreel arrived on scene first, having bolted from the car before it had even come to a stop.

There was Jack, eyes aglow and hands out, using his grace to pry open a portal to a demonic plane. And beside him, hand on his shoulder and shouting encouragement in his ear, was Sam.

Or, rather, someone who was wearing Sam's face.

A _demon_ was wearing Sam's face.

Gadreel called Jack's name, flaring his wings, and pulsing his grace to get the boy's attention. Thankfully, it startled him enough to make his concentration falter, the gateway flickering and closing with a snap.

It took everything within him to keep his voice steady as he held out a hand and beckoned to the child. "Jack, come here."

The poor boy looked confused. He looked to the imposter, and then back to Gadreel. "But, Sam said-"

" _That_ is not Sam."

Gadreel could see below the illusion, the power that fueled it crackled with static as it was never meant to be used by such a dark creature.

And for that moment, Gadreel's world stopped. The energy was corrupted, and tainted, stained with sulfur and scorched by Hell itself, but Gadreel still recognized its source. He stamped down his rage, not wanting to scare Jack by the sheer force of it.

Yes, he recognized it, and this demon would _pay_ for the trespass.

"Jack," Gadreel said again, sharper. "Come _here._ "

Jack's confused expression deepened as he stared at the demon, but did not step away.

It was then that Sam, _his Sam,_ finally caught up to him. He slid to a stop beside Gadreel, followed closely by Dean and Castiel.

"Where the heck did the fake Sammy come from?" Dean demanded.

The demon wearing his lover's face chuckled as he shed the illusion, revealing an older man with a scarred face and a pristine white suit. "Sorry boys, but you're interrupting an important conversation." The demon smirked and twisted his hand.

Sam and Dean started gagging beside him, and before Gadreel could take another step towards them, his body was wrapped within bands of power. No matter how hard he struggled, Gadreel could not move, and if he had to guess, neither could Castiel.

"Jack . . . they wanna stop you," the demon explained casually to Jack. "They wanna contain you. But not me. I can give you the world."

Jack looked at Gadreel, his eyes traveling to the others and then back to the demon. The boy's fists clenched and his wings flared and flapped, the movements instinctual to his emotions and not actually controlled. His eyes flashed gold as his grace reacted to his anger, power coiling to lash out. "Leave my family _alone_!" Jack roared.

The demon's face twisted with displeasure, and then was gone.

Gadreel was instantly able to move. He took Sam's face in his hands as the hunter took in great gasps of air. He rubbed his thumbs along Sam's cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Sam nodded, and bent to rest his forehead against Gadreel's, covering his hands with his own and squeezed.

"Father?"

Gadreel turned. There was Jack, looking nervous and upset.

"Father, Sam, I'm sorry. I know you're angry but I-"

Jack made a startled noise when Sam grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him in for a crushing hug. Gadreel draped his wings over the both of them, even though Jack was the only one who felt it.

"I am not angry with you," Gadreel assured him. "But I do believe I need to teach you how to recognize Sam and Dean by their souls."

"Let's go home," Dean rasped, "before anyone else makes a go at the kid.

There was no arguing with that.

 

 

Gadreel was tense.

Gadreel had _been_ tense since their encounter with the demon, but whenever Sam caught his eye with a questioning look, all he would offer was a faint smile and a small shake of his head.

Whatever it was, Sam knew his angel didn't want to discuss it in front of the others. So he waited until after they got Jack settled in and were back in their own room before he asked about it.

Now Gadreel didn't look tense, he looked _angry._ He paced the length of the room once, twice, before turning towards Sam with a hard expression.

"That demon who tricked Jack" Gadreel said, "He was utilizing Gabriel's grace."

Sam froze. That- no, that couldn't be possible.

There was no way.

"Gabriel?" Sam asked, still trying to wrap his head around the possibility. "You mean our Gabriel?"

_Our Gabriel._

He hadn't meant to say that. Despite the mark that the archangel had placed on his soul, there had never been a time where Sam could have called Gabriel _his_. They had never had the chance to be anything.

The same could be said for Gadreel, although their _almost_ had come much closer to _something_ before it all fell apart.

But . . .

But Gabriel had been their bridge, back in the beginning. He had been their link, their common ground. It had been their individual connections to Gabriel that had given Gadreel the courage to approach Sam as himself in order to save his life.

_Our Gabriel._

Gadreel's expression softened. "Yes, I mean our Gabriel."

Sam suddenly felt winded and found himself sitting heavily on the bed. His mind whirled, and his chest felt constricted. "Are you sure it was Gabriel's grace?" Sam asked, because he couldn't allow himself to hope unless he was _sure._ "Is that even possible? Unless he-"

The rest of that sentence died on his tongue, refusing to pass his lips.

"I know Gabriel's grace like I know the shine of your soul," Gadreel told him firmly. "Gabriel is alive."

_Gabriel is alive._

For how long? How did he survive? Was he in Hell all this time, and they just never knew? Had his death been a lie? A trick?

_Gabriel is alive._

The words echoed and rang, and Sam's vision blurred.

Warm hands cupped his jaw and cradled his cheek, and Sam pressed his lips against a calloused palm and breathed deep. The touch wasn't demanding, just reminding him that Gadreel was there. That he wasn't alone.

Had Gabriel been alone all this time?

"We need to find him."

"We will," Gadreel swore. "We will find him and we will bring him home."

_Bring him home._

Sam liked the sound of that.

Everything else could wait until they had him here.

**TBC**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to stop saying when this fix is gonna end, because it keeps making a liar out of me. There is supposed to be only one more after this. But this story keeps giving me curveballs, and the show keeps giving me new material to work with. Until next time! Happy reading! - Shadow


	5. Compass Star

Gabriel failed to contain a whine as the needle was jammed into his neck with a vicious stab. A hand fisted into his matted hair and wrenched his head harshly to the side to hold him in place. The sharp movement made the needle shift painfully beneath his skin, but he didn't dare make another noise. Instead, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing as he felt more of his grace be pulled from him.

He was still aching from his last punishment and he didn't want to earn another so soon.

It was far too easy to earn a punishment these days.

Asmodeus doled out a lot of punishments lately, not just to Gabriel, but also to the other demons under his command. The smallest of infractions ended in blood and screaming, and sometimes the thud of a freshly fallen corpse would follow. Even though he knew the relief would be temporary, Gabriel couldn't help but be grateful every time Asmodeus aimed his wrath at someone else.

Though sometimes, _often,_ he found himself envious of the demons that Asmodeus killed.

Their suffering was over. Death for a demon meant the peaceful void of oblivion. It was a peace, a mercy that Gabriel would never be granted.

After all, as long as he could regenerate his grace, Gabriel was too valuable to kill.

And so, his suffering would never come to an end. Asmodeus would never allow it.

Finally, the needle withdrew from his skin and he was released, leaving him to huddle and curl up where he was. He knew not to move until he was expressly ordered to, it had been a lesson hard learned and deeply ingrained.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Asmodeus asked, petting his head as one would a dog. Gabriel held very still at the touch. "No reason for you to be whining about it. You agree, don't you boy?"

The question was rhetorical, of course. Even if his mouth wasn't sewn shut, if Gabriel had tried to respond the consequences would have been unpleasant.

The archangel stared blankly at the floor as the Prince of Hell took a whole syringe full of his grace and shot it directly into his veins.

Gabriel flinched as the door burst open.

"This had better be good," Asmodeus growled, the tone making Gabriel's limbs tremble from sense-memory. That tone promised worlds of pain.

"Sir! It's - um, it's the nephilim, Sir. Jack. We, ah, we found him."

"Well?"

"Well, he's, um- he's here, and he's not alone."

" _What_?"

The building began to shake violently.

Gabriel's first instinct was to fold further down on himself, protecting his head and presenting a smaller target. Not that he thought it would actually help. If Asmodeus was angry enough to shake the ground, then there was no telling what he's do if Gabriel had the misfortune of catching his attention.

The building rocked again, and it was then that Gabriel though that it was possible that Asmodeus wasn't the source.

Hands grabbed him, dragging his quailing form into the corner of the room. His panic was running wild, expecting pain. Instead he was dropped, a hand grabbing his throat, lifting his face towards the other hand that had a pointed finger aimed at him.

Gabriel's eyes landed everywhere but Asmodeus' face. He knew better.

"Now, I'm gonna go handle this _inconvenience_ ," The demon hissed. "When I come back, you better be right here where I put you, or there'll be _consequences_."

And then he was alone.

The sounds of conflict echoed through the walls. Shouting, screaming. The room shook twice more before some of the mayhem began to taper off.

Gabriel sat there, very quiet and very still, as he waited for Asmodeus to return.

Because he _always_ returned.

There was a scuffle outside and the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor.

The door opened, and heavy footfalls followed.

"You sure about this, kid?" A gruff voice asked.

A familiar voice.

"Yes, I'm sure," another voice replied. Young. Unfamiliar. "Father says that I have become very good about identifying grace."

"If you say so. But if that's the case, then where is- oh crap."

A familiar man came into view, clearly older than when he last saw him, and Gabriel's eyes widened in growing panic. Asmodeus was getting far too good at creating a facsimile of a human soul, but he knew, he _knew_ it wasn't real. It was a lie. A trick, one that Gabriel would have fallen for, years ago. But not now, he had learned, he had! So why was he being tested now? He had been good, he hadn't moved, he was still right where he had been left so why-

A teenager stepped around fake Dean.

Gabriel may have been weak, but he was still strong enough to see the kid for what he was. Who he belonged to. Who sired him.

The nephilim before him was an impossibility.

Gabriel's panic rocketed, his breathing becoming erratic as he shoved himself further into the corner. He buried his face in his limbs and shook.

He needed to stay put. If he ignored them, the illusions would eventually disappear and Gabriel wouldn't be punished.

This was a test. Why would Asmodeus allow _anyone_ to mention the existence of a nephilim where he could hear? And then there was an attack right after? This had to be a test. Asmodeus had orchestrated tests like this before, so it had to be. Because there was no way . . .

"Kid, go get your dads. Tell them we found him."

There was a flutter of wings and Gabriel knew that if he looked, the teen would be gone.

The man that wasn't Dean tried to talk to Gabriel, tried to get him to focus on him. Gabriel refused, keeping his gaze averted or hidden altogether. If he fed into the lie, his punishment would be worse later, so he ignored it. At one point, the man tried to move him. Utterly terrified, Gabriel had managed a panicked shriek even through his sealed lips, not caring that his skin tore and bled anew. He flailed like a wild thing, and just like that, the hands went away and Gabriel retreated back to his corner.

More footsteps.

Someone gasped while another gave a shocked "oh my god".

Gabriel whimpered at Sam's voice and buried his face in his knees.

Asmodeus used Sam's appearance often, especially in tests like this. After all, it was the only face he still reacted to, even after all these years.

He refused to look.

"Gabriel. Hey, Gabriel, it's me, it's Sam. Winchester?"

"I tried to move him but he flipped out on me."

"I think it would be best to leave moving him to us." That voice was low and smooth. Calm. Calm things were always suspicious. "Do you mind gathering the others and waiting outside?"

"Uh, yeah. No problem."

There was a feather light touch to his knee.

He flinched at the initial contact, but otherwise didn't move.

"Gabriel," Sam's voice called softly. Imploringly. "Gabriel, come on. We're here to get you out. Gad, I can't even get him to _look_ at me."

"Let me try."

Another hand, only this one sought out the bare skin of his wrist, only touching with the pads of their fingers.

And this . . . this had never happened before.

The grace of another angel sought him out through the touch.

It was nothing invasive, just a gentle brush against his own depleted grace. The foreign grace was calm and reassuring and leaving itself wide open to him, inviting him to look, to inspect.

_I have no secrets from you_ this gesture was saying, and then waited.

Was this something Asmodeus could even duplicate? He hadn't before. This tactic was new. If he had a bit more grace he would have been able to tell at a glance the truth of the matter, but freshly drained like he was, he simply didn't have the juice.

But . . . he should be able to identify his own grace.

Shouldn't he?

The first stirrings of doubt began to surface, and Gabriel tried to smother them. Because he had gone down this road before, again, and again, and everytime it ended _here_. Blood, and pain, and vial upon vial of harvested grace.

"Sam, give me your hand. I am going to try something else. It will not hurt, but it might feel a bit intense."

"Whatever you need to do. I trust you."

The grace shifted, coaxing Gabriel to pay attention to it, _just look at us_ , it begged, _nothing more, just look._

And despite himself, despite what it might cost him, Gabriel did.

Once it held his focus, the grace flowed from one body to the next, highlighting something the two beings in front of him had in common, putting it on display. There, engraved on grace and human soul, was an angelic mark of protection.

_His_ mark.

He had only ever gifted that mark to two people. For what little good it did them. One hadn't even known, and the other . . .

The other he couldn't even save from imprisonment.

No one else knew, no one else _could_ know, but he had to be sure.

Tentatively, timidly, he reached out with the pitiful amount of grace he had left, brushing against the spots that bore his sigil.

And it really was them.

Gadreel's grace sang out to him, and Sam's soul was as brilliant as he last saw it. He didn't know how, but here they were. Two people he had failed so horribly, and who should not have any idea who the other _was._ But here they were.

Both of them. Impossibly. Miraculously.

His vision blurred as he grabbed at the hands touching him, anchoring himself to them, terrified that they would disappear if he let go.

Because, honestly, he wasn't so sure that they wouldn't.

** The End **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! Officially the final chapter. I have ideas rolling around for a short sequel centered around Gabriel's recovery, but this is where I had originally planned to end it, so here we are! If you guys enjoyed reading this half as much as I enjoyed writing it, I would consider it a job well done. Until next time, Happy Reading!- Shadow


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